Stay put and wait for the doctor

Suddenly, you are filled with a sense of well-being. You don't understand why you were getting so freaked out. After all, it's a beautiful day. The thick blue sky that stretches uninterrupted from one horizon to the other feels as warm and cosy as a blanket. There is nothing for miles but gentle rolling hills, green grass and wildflowers. You lean back and sigh contentedly. The large, flat white stone that you are laying on is warm and feels good on your back. You watch out of the corner of your eyes as butterflies drift lazily from flower to flower, going about their business without a care in the world.

The woman is talking to you again. You didn't realize that she was here, but you are glad that she is. Listening to her voice always makes you feel so good. You love her voice. It's the most beautiful voice in the world.

"Someday everything will be perfectly clear to you," she says. "Just remember what I told you...."

"John. John, can you hear me? John?"

The sound of the second voice startles you. It doesn't sound right, for some reason. It sounds far away. And unpleasant. It makes your back hurt.

"John. I need you to concentrate on my voice, John. Can you do that for me?"
Suddenly you remember that you are not in the field, but in the hospital. But how can that be?

"John. Listen to me, John. You have to wake up now, or you might not wake up again."

Your eyes flicker open but you quickly squeeze them shut. It's very bright, outside. Much brighter than it was in the field. And your back hurts. You open them again, and shut them again just as quickly. Someone is shining a light in your eye. You can feel hands holding you up. Someone is touching your forehead, your throat, the back of your neck.

"Can you hear me now, John?" asks the woman's voice.

"Y-yes," you mutter, thickly. Your tongue feels like its swollen, too big for your mouth.

"You left us again, for a little bit," she says. "But we got you back. We need to move you now. Get you back into bed."

You open your eyes again, but now the light is gone and everything looks darker, gloomier. There is a woman kneeling in front of you. She is very good-looking. About forty years old, with an olive complexion and large, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes. She has thick, chestnut brown hair tied back in a loose bun and a white doctor's coat.

"Wh-what happened...?" you ask, trying to remember how you got here.

"You've given us quite a surprise, John," says the woman, smiling good-naturedly, but with genuine concern. "We didn't expect you to be up and about so soon."

You suddenly remember waking up in the hospital, seeing the pretty nursing assistant, getting out of bed. You can feel the hard wood of the washroom door against your back. You must have passed out.

"We're going to move you now, John. Are you ready?" asks the woman.

You nod in approval, and then wince and gasp as the pain in your neck shoots down your spine.

"Ok. Let's move him," she says. You feel four pairs of hands lifting and supporting you. You are being lifted off the floor and carried over to the bed. They set you down gently and reattach your IV drip, which had become detached somehow. A male nurse, a large, good-looking black man, is administering some sort of medicine intravenously. The young nursing assistant is adjusting the blankets for you, her blonde pony-tail flopping back and forth as she works.

The woman doctor, who had been conferring with one of her colleagues quietly near the far wall of the room walks over to the side of your bed.

"I'm Dr. Pembrost. I'm the surgeon in charge of your case. How are you feeling?" she asks, smiling, with a curve to her lips that seems to say: "You have no idea how lucky you are that we came when we did."

"Terrible," you confess. Your head is pounding and your breathing is ragged and shallow. The pain in your spine is intense, spiking now and again according to some kind of unknown rhythm.

"You've suffered some pretty serious injuries, Joh--," she stops suddenly, blushing. "I'm sorry, I don't know your real name," she says, a little embarrassed. "We're all just so used to calling you John that I've forgotten that we don't know your real name yet."

All three of them: the doctor, the nursing assistant, and the male nurse are looking at you expectantly, waiting for your response.